


We Don't Fight Fair

by orphan_account



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Begging, Blow Jobs, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Nipple Play, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Smut, enjoy your sinning, the ending is sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-04-08 06:08:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4293699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick laughed. "Pete, are you begging, baby? God, that's hot," he praised, lowering his lips to a nipple as he continued rubbing the wet spot on his boxers.</p>
<p>Pete moaned deep in his throat - he wanted more, so much more. "Patrick - just - god, just t-touch me," he repeated, whining, pushing towards his hand. </p>
<p>Patrick leaned into his ear and whispered, "Say please."</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Don't Fight Fair

He shoudn't have done it. He knew that. But he didn't regret it. He was Pete Wentz, for fuck's sake, he could do whatever the hell he wanted to.

Which is exactly why, while they were playing "The Take Over, The Break's Over" at a Chicago show, in a moment of weakness (it was so damn hot at the venue that Patrick had started unbuttoning his dress shirt, and Christ, Pete just wanted to rip it off of him), he waltzed over to Patrick, flashed a grin at the audience as he came up behind his friend, and tucked his chin into the curve of his neck. 

And, well, maybe thrust his hard-on against his ass. Just a little. And it was okay, right? The audience couldn't tell. . .

But Patrick certainly could, Pete thought with a smirk as he felt the singer push back against him. He forced back a laugh when he realized Patrick was rolling his hips back against him in time with the song's bassline. 

He would've called him adorable, but then Patrick threw his head back against Pete's shoulder, practically groaning out, "We do it in the dark, with smiles on our faces. . ." 

And no, he wasn't adorable. Patrick was the hottest fucking thing Pete had ever seen. And all of this felt so natural, as if this - this, like, flirting, stage gay, whatever "this" was - was a common occurrence, not just the first time a slightly intoxicated Pete finally, finally lost his self control. He knew Patrick was just caught up in the performance, and "this" probably wasn't really anything. But still, he couldn't help wanting to test the waters a little . . . 

He leaned down, ghosted a kiss on Patrick's neck. He barely noticed it, but the crowd cheered. Pete smiled against Patrick's skin, pressing his lips down a little harder, open-mouthed.

Patrick gasped - he definitely noticed that time. It was just a bit before where he usually breathed, anyway, so Pete hadn't really screwed him up a whole lot, but he still shoved Pete away, lightly, looking irritated. 

Pete walked away from him, trying not to look upset for the audience, but silently cursing himself for fucking up so quickly. He knew he was just being allowed, just being humored, and he shouldn't have pushed like that, shouldn't have kissed him so suddenly, shouldn't have scared him off, fuck . . .

Pete stayed over in his area of the stage for the rest of the song, wearing a hopefully not too noticeable crestfallen expression. 

The next couple of songs, he jammed out with Joe, alternating between doing some seriously stupid dance moves and some shit that actually looked pretty professional. Maybe. But then again, it was Pete and Joe.

And it was fun. Really, it was, but he was having to mentally restrain himself from drifting back towards Patrick.

He couldn't go back there. Patrick didn't want him. He . . . he didn't see Pete that way. He shouldn't have tried it in the first place. He'd scared him, he'd almost messed him up because he'd distracted . . . wait.

Pete had distracted Patrick, hadn't he? Pete was pretty sure that Patrick moving against him hadn't been his imagination, as he'd had to shift his bass a bit to give him room. He wouldn't have done that just to enable him; Patrick was fairly chaste - he wouldn't just let someone rut against him like that unless he wanted it, would he? Pete smiled softly. Maybe Patrick had pushed him away because he was too distracting. 

...

Patrick could not deal with this. What was Pete's problem? When he'd come over to the platform (which was, admittedly, something he'd been trying to entice him to do all night), he'd finally been exactly how he wanted him - acting like a total whore. He'd made the poor guy completely hard without having to do much of anything. Then he'd started grinding on him, while practically sucking a hickey into his neck right on stage - god, did he even know how hot that was? 

But still, he'd pushed him back - Pete was a huge distraction, and Patrick wasn't used to it. But that didn't mean he didn't want him there . . . He'd just left him alone. Though he supposed, Pete maybe couldn't tell just how . . . excited he was from behind him. 

He'd done his best to coax Pete back over; rolling his hips, even unbuttoning his shirt a little more. And though he stole plenty of glances at Patrick, he kept his distance. And it was annoying him. All Pete would do was look, when Patrick was almost begging him to come touch.

Eventually, he just couldn't take it. They had just started a new song when Patrick jumped off the platform, caught up in the energy, and walked toward Pete, raising an eyebrow with a suggestive smile when he finally made eye contact. 

It didn't take long for Pete to smile back, even if suprised. Patrick put two fingers in his collar, as if to pull him along - but not before getting right up in Pete's face, and rolling his hips against his thigh so he could tell just how interested he was. The audience let out a collective scream and Pete tried not to choke on his arousal while Patrick pulled him back up to the platform. 

"What the fuck?" Pete whispered, still surprised but smiling, even as he continued to rut against him. Patrick just winked at him in reply. 

Pete shook his head with a grin, still confused - did Patrick want him? was this real? - but definitely okay with the situation. At first, he just let Patrick grind against him - trying not to whine in pleasure - then, without thinking, pressed his lips down to Patrick's neck again. To Pete's suprise, Patrick just closed his eyes and stretched his neck to give him more access. Pete freely complied, opening his mouth and sucking at the pale skin, even grazing his teeth against it. Patrick did his best not to moan and focus on the song.

...

Pete couldn't believe this was really happening. He couldn't believe Patrick really wanted him, really liked getting touched by him. He couldn't seem to stop testing it - kissing him, anywhere but the lips, so he could sing. And Patrick was letting him - wanted him to. He groaned softly when Pete kissed anywhere near the mark he'd made on his neck, and he seemed to be trying to get a kiss on the lips, anyway. 

But the best part, Pete decided, was during the second last song, when Patrick turned Pete around to face him again, and rested their foreheads together so he could touch him, tracing one hand down Pete's neck, over his chest - rubbing the rough fabric of his shirt over his sensitive nipple, making Pete gasp loudly. Patrick grinned, then moved his hand, tracing it along the inside of Pete's thigh instead, enjoying watching him try to be quiet and not squirm.

By the time they'd finished playing their last song, the audience was nearly hoarse, knowing Pete and Patrick had only each other on their mind. Pete ended the show as quickly as possible while still being respectful of the fans, and then the band exited the stage.

...

Backstage of the venue, the guys all took off their sweaty tops, Pete and Patrick trying not to be too obvious in staring at the other. 

"Well, that was certainly . . . interesting," Andy said with amusement.

Joe laughed. "Yeah, for sure."

"What do you mean?" Patrick asked, cheeks burning.

"We mean you two practically having sex onstage just now, guys," came Joe's reply, wicked grin on his face.

Andy giggled, adding, "Yeah, what the hell was all that about?"

Pete blushed just as hard. Truthfully, he didn't know either, but answered, "I - It's just - we just kind of thought we'd put on a show. You know, for the fans. It's nothing worse than how Brendon and Dallon were at their last gig . . ." 

Joe had managed to contain himself, but that last comment sent him into hysterics. "Pete, Brendon and Dallon fucked after their last show. Dal told me by accident," he replied once he managed to catch his breath. 

"Shut up," Pete said, still red-faced. "That's different, they're just - oh, just shut up," he repeated. "I need a shower," he said.

"Yeah," Patrick said quickly, "I - M-me too,"

"They have some back here," Pete said, beckoning to him.

"Where?"

"Come on, I - I'll show you."

"Riiiight," Andy said to their backs.

"That was just too obvious," Joe chuckled.

Andy looked over and winked. "Like we've got much room to talk . . ." He said, almost innocently. He smiled as Joe approached him.

"Better liars than they are," he murmured, running his hands along Andy's naked torso.

"Mm. Maybe," Andy sighed, lifting Joe's chin for a kiss that was anything but chaste. 

"Hey, maybe we should go take a shower, too?" Joe asked, smiling as kisses were pressed down his neck.

Andy smirked. "There's another one this way," he said, leading Joe the opposite direction Pete and Patrick had left from.

....

"What the fuck was that?" Pete turned and said as soon as he thought the others couldn't hear.

"What was what?" Patrick asked, a lusty lilt to his voice.

"That - All that on stage! We've never - I mean, I just don't - "

Patrick giggled. "You started it," he reminded him.

"Well yeah, but I didn't think you'd - "

"What, be into it?" He whispered into his ear. "Pete, can you really not tell I was trying to get your attention?"

Pete had no idea how to respond. "Wh-what?"

Patrick kissed his jaw. "The reason I was acting like that - you know, all slutty like I was - was so you'd come back on the platform and pay attention to me."

"But you - you shoved me. You made me go away . . . " Pete frowned a little at the memory. 

Patrick looked at the ground. "Well, you - I mean, I'm not exactly used to someone trying to - to g-give me a hickey onstage," he said quietly. "I don't know. But I really wanted you there. I mean - " He looked up briefly before taking Pete's hand and putting it over his erection, "I thought that was pretty obvious," he whispered, blushing.

Pete smiled incredulously. "So you really like me?" Pete asked, daring to sound suggestive. "Like me that much?" He added, punctuating by pressing against Patrick with the hand he'd placed.

"Y-yeah," Patrick whined, "yeah, I do . . . " 

Pete smirked, somehow with that declaration instantaneously regaining his nerve. He pushed Patrick against the wall and kissed him hard, sucking his bottom lip, then letting his tongue move against Patrick's until he moaned into Pete's mouth. Then he started kissing down his neck, muttering whatever fell from his lips - "You little fucking tease . . . Touching me like that, up on stage, you - " Pete gasped as the positions were suddenly switched.

Patrick started pressing kisses along Pete's jawline. "You made me," he mumbled against Pete's skin. "You just had to start being a slut for me, didn't you? Then you left . . . I had to show you - show you you're mine." Pete gasped as Patrick started rolling his hips against his, giving him the friction he so desperately needed.  

"Patrick," Pete sighed. "We should go - go to the showers . . . "

Patrick smiled at him. "You want to see me naked that bad?"

"That's right." Pete smirked, pushing him away and pulling him down the hall to the showers. 

...

As soon as they'd shut the door, Pete turned to Patrick, suddenly shy, and put a hand to his cheek as he kissed him. Patrick licked at Pete's bottom lip, and he quickly opened his mouth for him.

"You're so pretty," Patrick whined when Pete started sucking his neck again. "So fucking pretty . . ." 

Pete ran a hand down Patrick's spine, making his back arc, and licked along the smaller man's collarbone, making him gasp. "So sensitive," he murmured, moving his lips to the spot instead. 

Patrick smirked, lifting Pete's head to his to kiss him lightly. "Not as sensitive as you," he whispered, mischief in his eyes.

Pete just looked at him. Patrick smiled, moving one hand along his side. "I learned something new about you today," he said quietly. He moved one hand up Pete's chest, brushing his thumb over Pete's nipple. It went hard, and Pete sucked in a breath, his eyes fluttering shut.

"Mm, you like that, yeah?" Patrick mumbled, rolling the bud between his fingers, making Pete whine.

"Ah - Patrick, please - " Pete stuttered. "Oh, god, please, Patrick,"

Patrick continued playing with Pete's nipple, thoroughly enjoying watching this. "Please, what, baby?" He said sweetly. "What do you need?" He asked, even as he moved to kiss his nipple, lightly sucking.

Pete just whimpered. "Oh - oh, fuck, Patrick - "

Patrick giggled. "You could probably come just from this, couldn't you, baby?" He unfastened Pete's jeans as he spoke. "Don't worry, though - wouldn't do that to you," he said quietly, rubbing Pete's tip through his boxers.

"P - Patrick, oh my god," Pete exclaimed at the contact. "Oh, god, Patrick - just touch me, please just touch me."

Patrick laughed. "Pete, are you begging, baby? God, that's hot," he praised, lowering his lips to a nipple as he continued rubbing the wet spot on his boxers.

Pete moaned deep in his throat - he wanted more, so much more. "Patrick - just - god, just t-touch me," he repeated, whining, pushing towards his hand. 

Patrick leaned into his ear and whispered, "Say please."

Pete was able to stay quiet until Patrick began tracing circles around his nipple with his tongue, while pressing a thumb to his slit. Then - 

"Patrick, please," he whispered. "P - please touch me. Please, please sir," he said, now moving his hand against Patrick's crotch. "I'll do anything," he lilted, kissing him. "Anything," he emphasized, undoing Patrick's jeans as well and stroking him over his boxers.

Patrick moaned at the contact. "Oh, Pete - fuck, you're so good with your fingers," he said quietly. "And such pretty begging - so, so good," he praised. "Now strip for me, baby - you asked so nice for me to touch you, yeah?"

Both men quickly kicked off their jeans and boxers, shoes and socks already discarded at the door. Then Patrick grabbed Pete, kissing him deeply and walking until the other man's back hit the wall, and rocking his hips against his until he moaned loudly into the kiss.

"Patrick," he gasped, "please?"

Patrick, who had been busying both hands with pinching Pete's nipples, smiled and said, "Of course, baby," moving one hand down to Pete's cock, stroking lightly, slowly.

Pete's back arched, and he thrust up against Patrick's hand. "Stop t-teasing me, Patrick," he whined. "Please . . . " Pete leaned down to kiss him, open and sloppy. "I need you - please, please," he mumbled between breaths.

Patrick kissed him back happily, loving the depth, the neediness of it. He leaned up to Pete's ear and whispered, "Such a whore," then kissed his neck as he pumped harder, faster. 

Pete was whimpering, moaning, and Patrick was whispering awful things to him, calling him a slut and a whore and a skank, but always punctuated with praises; beautiful, baby, sweetheart, so good, so pretty, mine. But just as Pete thought he might come undone, Patrick stepped away, stopped touching him. He groaned at the loss of contact. 

"What - "

Patrick smirked at him. "I know what was happening. You don't come until I say you can," he said, quietly but forcefully. Truthfully, he'd just thought of the idea, and was trying not to giggle. That would be so pretty, watching Pete try to hold off from coming, because of him. And just because he said so. Being in charge is fun, he thought.

Pete moaned at Patrick's words. He was never usually so submissive, but Patrick dominating him . . . it was so fucking hot. He'd never seen him this confident. It was such a turn-on. 

Pete had to, just needed to please him.

"Patrick," he said, voice low and lusty. Patrick was absently stroking himself, and he just looked so perfect, Pete couldn't help but stare. "Let - let me help you," he whispered, stepping closer. He moved Patrick's hand away, replacing it with his own. 

Pete stroked Patrick's length delicately, paying particular attention to any place that made him gasp loudly or thrust into his hand. 

"You're really sensitive, too, you know," Pete whispered, massaging a spot at the base of Patrick's length that made him flush the prettiest shade of red. "Just differently than me, but not any less," he continued as Patrick gasped and shuddered when Pete rubbed his thumb over his slit - Patrick had done the same to him earlier, but it hadn't affected Pete nearly as much. "Is this good?" He asked, fishing for praise.

"Oh, god, yes, baby, you're - ah" Patrick interrupted himself with a whine when Pete found another place to pay more special attention to. " - you're perfect, so perfect. So good with your fingers - " Patrick moaned, and at that point gave up on talking. 

Pete smiled as Patrick kissed him, saying Pete's name with each breath. He was making Patrick crazy, and he loved hearing his name so needy and desperate coming from Patrick. Plus, it gave him an idea.  
Maybe, if he could get Patrick as close as he was, he'd finally let Pete come.

Pete smiled mischievously at the thought, then let both hands cradle Patrick's head as he kissed him.

"B-baby - what are you - ?" Patrick whined in confusion at the lack of contact.

Pete just smiled, then sank to his knees. Patrick almost moaned just at the sight of that.

Pete smiled up at Patrick. He couldn't believe he was really doing this - or how badly he wanted to. Patrick's length was just so perfect, Pete just had to taste him.

He wrapped a hand around the length, stroking ever so lightly as he lapped at the precum leaking from the head. He licked deeply at Patrick's sensitive slit, and like that, the other was already moaning. 

"Don't look so smug," Patrick complained. "You know I make you feel just as good," he reminded Pete. Which, of course, only worked to make him look even more smug - he already felt that good, did he?

Pete just responded by taking the whole head into his mouth, dipping his tongue into the slit briefly before swallowing around him.

Patrick turned into a whimpering mess at that - there's one way to shut him up, Pete thought. 

Pete swallowed a few more times before taking more of Patrick's length, tongue still swirling around his tip. Patrick was trying to stay quiet, so Pete stroked him harder and hummed around his length until Patrick shamelessly let out a loud, guttural moan, letting his fingers tangle in Pete's hair and thrusting up into his mouth. Pete managed not to gag on him and actually just grunted quietly around him, like it was what he wanted to happen.

"Oh, Pete, baby - you're so perfect. Just a perfect little cockslut, aren't you?" Patrick cooed, petting his hair. "I bet - oh, so good, baby, sooo fucking good," he panted, Pete's beautiful tongue letting foul words and swears fall from Patrick's usually censored lips. "I bet you've been with so many other boys to be so good at this, you dirty little whore," he lisped.

Pete just whined knowing he was making Patrick feel good enough to be jealous. He bobbed his head and swallowed, trying to coax out more dirty praises.

Patrick groaned, continuing, "Oh, Pete, oh, baby - yeah, god, you're mine. My pretty little slut, yeah?" He whispered, and it did sound like a question - did Pete want to be his? Patrick hoped he did.

As if in reply, Pete started stroking himself with his free hand. He couldn't stand it - Patrick was so damn beautiful, yes, god, yes, he'd be his whore - he'd even wear a collar with a bell if it meant Patrick would fuck him whenever he wanted. 

Pete moaned loudly at that thought, surprising himself. Pete rarely let other boys top him; he was usually the one they were begging for. But, god, he just wanted Patrick so bad. So fucking bad.

"Oh, baby," Patrick said darkly, bringing Pete back to reality. "You're so . . . so pretty," he said. Watching Pete touch himself was so enjoyable - he had no idea how hot he looked. He just had the prettiest fingers . . .

Still . . . "No, baby," he said, pulling Pete off of him and kneeling as well. "No. Let me do that," he said, swatting Pete's hand away and helping him up.

"Let me touch you," he continued, earnestly. "I wanna make you feel good - feel so beautiful like you are, baby," he said lowly as he wrapped a hand around Pete's cock.

Pete leaned down and kissed him. Patrick was so sweet, and he thought Pete was pretty - no, beautiful, he'd said - and hot, and good, and even sexy. He didn't think any of that was true, but when Patrick said it, he could almost believe it. 

Patrick pumped Pete hard, silently, smiling at every little sound that escaped from Pete's lips. Eventually, he looked up at Pete, kissing his pretty lips in spite of himself. And then he couldn't stop himself; he kissed Pete's cheek, his jaw, his neck, his chest - leaning back up to whisper in his ear a gentle reminder that, "Remember, you can't come yet, sweetheart," before kissing at his nipples.

Pete whined, arching into the touch despite trying not to - Patrick was so good at touching him; it was getting so hard not to come. Pete was biting his lip to be quiet, looking pleasured and needy at the same time. 

"Talk to me, baby," Patrick suggested between little sucks and bites to Pete's nipples. Pete couldn't do much more than whine while he was doing that . . .

"Please, baby?" Patrick asked, taking his hand off of Pete's dick to twist the other nipple. "I love hearing how much you want me - don't you want me, Pete?" Patrick asked, pressing a finger against Pete's hole.

Pete gasped at the touch. "Oh, P - Patrick, god - please, p-please . . . "

Patrick smirked before kissing him. "What is it, sweetheart? Please what?" He asked, dry finger drawing lazy circles around Pete's hole.

Pete wasn't listening, kissing him, biting his neck, stroking Patrick and sighing his name into his skin, along with the occasional "so gorgeous," and "please."

Patrick whined and just let Pete be all over him - how could he not? He could never refuse Pete's hands.

"B-baby - oh, god, honey, you're so good. Such perfect fingers. Oh - oh, fuck, Pete - "  
He was stuttering already, and Pete was smirking again - he'd already figured out how much of a thing Patrick had for his hands, the fucker.

"See?" Pete said smugly, moving his hand to drag it across Patrick's collarbone, coaxing out a moan. "You're sensitive, too. And definitely a whore for my hands . . . " Pete said daringly, barely tracing one finger over Patrick's slit with the last comment. 

Just that tiny touch was enough to make Patrick groan Pete's name.

Then, with a smile, as if in retaliation, Patrick twisted one of Pete's nipples, and barely pressed his finger into his hole.

"Oh my god - Patrick, P - Patrick, please," Pete moaned, all the neediness back in his voice. "Patrick, g-god, just fuck me," he pleaded, not even caring how desperate he sounded. "Oh, god, Patrick - please, please just fuck me. Please - " he pushed back against Patrick's finger, asking for more. "Please - want you so bad. So fucking bad. Just please, just f-fuck me, please," Pete was whining, leaking precome, and he knew he was close, but god, he just needed Patrick inside him.

Patrick, meanwhile, was about to choke - he didn't know what he'd been expecting, exactly, but it certainly wasn't that. And it was amazing - Pete begging Patrick to fuck him was definitely the hottest, prettiest thing he'd ever seen. But still -

"God, I wish I could, baby," Patrick whispered lustfully. "You know I want to - oh, fuck, Pete - I want to so bad. But we need to be safe, we don't have any condoms - or lube, I don't wanna hurt you, sweetheart," he said honestly. Sometimes he hated being so responsible. Pete whined quietly in protest, but he knew Patrick was right.

Patrick kissed Pete right below his ear, continuing, "You know what I can do, though, is this," he pressed his hips into Pete's, causing a little gasp as their erections made contact, "and I can kiss you here, and here," he continued, sucking at each nipple.

"And," Patrick said, removing his finger and placing it below Pete's bottom lip, "l can finger you, if you want," he finished, eyes shining. 

Pete just shuddered, whispered, "Please . . . "

Patrick smiled, putting two fingers to Pete's lips and saying, "Suck."

Pete took the fingers into his mouth, quickly coating them in his saliva, lightly stroking Patrick in thanks.

"Good, baby," Patrick said as he pulled his fingers from Pete's mouth while trying not to buck his hips into Pete's hand. "So good."

Patrick swept one finger over Pete's hole, earning a little gasp. He pressed in slowly,  but Pete was already pushing back again, so he started pushing in the second finger. "Such a slut," Patrick said amusedly. "You're probably such a needy bottom, yeah? Oh god, I wish I could fuck you, baby."

Pete whined, pushing back even more. "Need you so bad, Patrick - god, please sir - "

Patrick giggled, adding another finger and wondering if Pete even knew what he was saying. Calling him "sir," without any prompting - god, he was just so submissive. It was somehow both adorable and a huge turn-on.

Pete was still pushing, still begging - "Please, please sir, just fuck me, I'll be good - " and it was just so damn pretty, Patrick decided to show mercy.

He leaned up to Pete's ear and whispered, "When I find your prostate, you can come for me, baby."

Pete moaned as Patrick started scissoring  and curling his fingers inside him. Patrick just barely brushed against something, and -

"P - Patrick, oh my god," Pete groaned as he came hard, splashing against Patrick's and his own stomach. He started stroking Patrick harder, and in a moment, he was coming, too, cooing something about Pete's beautiful fingers. 

"That - wow," Pete said, sinking to the floor.  

Patrick laughed. "I know; we never even got the shower on!"

"I had no idea you could even have such a dirty mouth," Pete said. "I don't think I've ever heard you say 'fuck' before," he added.

Patrick grinned. "I don't think I've ever heard you say it that much," he said mischievously. "I had no idea you were so submissive."

Pete narrowed his eyes. "I'm not that bad," he said defensively.

"You called me 'sir,' Pete."

"Wh-what? Really?" Pete went bright red. "Shit, I guess it was that bad."

Patrick sank down next to him, and crawled over to kiss him. "I never said it was bad," he said innocently. "It's hot. I mean - I've never had someone actually beg for me before." Patrick giggled and kissed him again.

"Well," Pete retaliated, "now I know about your hand thing. Is that why you like watching me practice so much?" He asked with a laugh. 

Patrick blushed. "Th - that's just for you, I think," he said quietly. "You just - you have such pretty hands - I don't know," he mumbled.

"Hey, it's alright," Pete said, taking hold of Patrick's hand. "I think it's really cute, actually," he said. "And this," he continued, tracing Patrick's collarbone until he shivered. "That's adorable," he finished, then lean to kiss a peak of the bone at his neck.

Patrick smiled. "Your thing with your nipples is really cute, too," he said, leaning against Pete's shoulder.

Pete's cheeks turned pink again, and he started petting Patrick's hair. "Shut up," he said weakly.

"Hmm, no," Patrick said, kissing him again. 

Pete kissed him back, then again, then asked shyly, "Do you think . . . I mean, would you want to, maybe, like - do that again sometime?"

Patrick smirked. "I thought you wanted me to fuck you?" he asked.

"Or that," Pete said quickly. "That would be good, too." 

Patrick laughed, leaning to kiss Pete still laughing. Pete laughed into the kiss, as well, telling Patrick to stop making fun of him.

When they finally broke away, Patrick sighed, "God, I love you."

Then he froze.

Pete rolled his eyes, then smiled and kissed him again. "Good. I love you, too."

And then they were laughing and kissing again, barely letting themselves believe it.

**Author's Note:**

> \- i am a perv  
> \- lowkey threw some other ships into this because i do what i want lmao  
> \- thank u for reading u dirty sinner u  
> \- im sorry


End file.
